


The Sheik

by Debi_C



Series: A Window In Time [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, kidfic pre-series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Debi_C/pseuds/Debi_C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Little Danny fic. Lots and Lots of foreshadowing and some scariness for a 6-year-old boy. He never listens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sheik

They were in the great marketplace of Cairo. The sights, sounds and smells reached out to the boy as intoxicatingly as any drug available in the streets and back alleys. He had come to the great city with his parents to meet a new sponsor for their next expedition into the Valley of the Dead. His mother and their maid had come to do shopping for their upcoming Archaeological dig. The ancient buildings and walls surrounded the market, trapping within its narrow streets the scents and emotions that had permeated the place since time began.

Claire Jackson had been doing this sort of thing since she was a teenager helping her father with his own work in the Yucatan peninsula. Nicholas Ballard had taught her well to husband their meager funding and Melbourne Jackson had learned early on that his wife was the one with the head for business. He was pleased to let her enjoy the endless bargaining, and make all the arrangements for their trips. 

Today, he was still at the great hotel within the tourist quarter entertaining their august guests; ones that he would hopefully persuade to help fund the expedition that they were mounting next month. He would be in search of the ancient God King Osiris. Professor Jackson was sure that the Stewart Expedition had not found everything in the old temple they had located almost forty years ago. He wanted to fully explore the area and finish the work his deceased predecessor had begun in the 1930s before World War II had disrupted and reburied the temple and supposed tomb of the first pharaoh of Egypt. In spite of the rich funerary objects the sarcophagus had never been located. But for this they needed funding, and he was hoping the rich English landholder would be as supportive as he was passionate in his interest in Egyptology.

In the marketplace, Claire moved easily through the clamor and crush that tried to impede her progress. Daniel was right behind her, holding on to the rope that she had affixed to her trouser belt. They had worked this method out when she realized that she needed both hands free for the business of bargaining. Also, it allowed her son a small freedom of movement necessary to dodge any unforeseen hazards. He was not on a leash, in essence, she was. 

Missy, the young Egyptian woman who was Claire's assistant and nanny for Daniel, was close behind the boy. While there was no immediate danger, there was always the odd chance that the beautiful child would wander into an unsafe area and possibly be injured or even stolen by the evil people whom she knew to inhabit the fringes of the city's marketplace.

When Missy had first seen the boy, he had only been a toddler of three years of age. She had been beguiled by the sheer beauty and sweetness of the boy. Missy had not known that any earthly being could be so comely. His long silken flaxen hair and his startling blue eyes were reminiscent of an angel sent down from above by Allah. But his mind was made of quicksilver and rainwater flowing with the speed and direction of old wisdom and youthful enthusiasm. He was truly a marvel, this child of the professor and her mistress. Allah, the merciful, must have great plans for him indeed. However, in the meantime, it was somewhat of a challenge to keep the boy from harm until he reached that adulthood to fulfill his destiny. Even now, she could see something forming in the crystal azure eyes of the gamine.

"Mummy?" The boy was tugging on his mother's belt strap. "Mummy?"

"Yes, Danny?" Claire answered absently as she examined a basket of dates for imperfections on the fruit.

"Can we go to the souk?"

"Not now, darling. I have to finish the shopping for the dig."

"Can we go later?" He insisted.

"I don't know, dear. We can ask your father."

"Mummy. Poppa won't let me go. We'll have to go back to the village soon. There won't be time." The child remarked, sounding very adult in his request. "But if we go now, there will be."

"Daniel, I'm not finished here yet." Claire continued to walk, looking into the shops for more food staples. "I have to buy the grain for the bread with at the camp. You know we must have plenty of food for the workers."

"Yes, Mummy, I know." The towheaded child looked down at his feet as he followed his mother down the narrow streets, holding on to the rope handgrip at his mother's waist.

"What do you want at the Souk anyway?" Claire looked at her son curiously.

"I want to buy a camel." The boy replied immediately.

"You have plenty of toys, Daniel. You have a wagon and a shovel and your father's soldiers." His mother continued reasonably. "And the children of the village play with you. What would you do with another toy camel? Wouldn't Lumpy be jealous?" She asked referring to the beloved, stuffed toy.

"No Mummy. I don't want another toy camel." He explained calmly. "I want a real camel."

"Old Ibrahim has a camel you can ride, doesn't he? Perhaps next week we can go and visit him. You can ride one of his camels then."

"I want a camel friend. I can't have a friend that someone else owns. I would have to leave him at Mister Ibrahim's and he'd sell him. I would like my own camel please."

Claire had started talking to a grain dealer and hadn't heard what her son had said. 

Daniel released the rope and stood in the bright sunlight of the crowded street. He watched his mother haggle softly with the man behind the great sacks of grain and rice. The ancient cobbled stones felt warm on the bottom of his sandaled feet. He could smell the sweat of the vendors and the perfume of the palm in the air. The cotton, linen and silken garments brushed past him as the polyglot of people hurried on down the street. He looked around; gold, silver, and copper coins glinted in the white rays of the sun as other customers haggled with the market men.

Daniel could see the path that led through the food sellers stalls and out away into the Souk. Down that road was the ancient market of the timeless city. It was where men and women had bartered for gold, frankincense and myrrh, golden statues, exotic spices and silken cloth. Monies had been exchanged there since the time of Seti and Moses. If a thing could be had, it would be bought and sold here at this ancient place.

The boy grew bored at his mother's side. He knew what he wanted, he knew where it was and just that morning his father's new patron had gifted him with some shiny gold dinar coins. He had also brought his few silver shekels that he had saved with him. Surely it would be enough for a small camel. Missy had gone off on some errand of her own. There was no one watching him, so he devised a plan.

His mother was deep in conversation with the date seller. Missy had gone across the alley to look at some embroidered cloth. They wouldn't miss him for a while and surely he'd be back by the time she was through buying things.

Daniel looked up once more at his mother and then to the rope that he held in his hand. He wasn't supposed to turn it loose. He wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone. But, no one would take him to where the camels were. So he released the rope that held him to his mother, then set his face into the sun and trotted quickly into the dim corridors of the Souk.

The boy passed many people as he ducked under and around the customers of the marketplace. There were ancient men with gray hair and no teeth. He went past boys his own age with dark skin and black hair. And there were even a few women, calling out to him to buy their sweetmeats. 

As he went deeper into the old market, the customers were also of a different caliber than from the other more modern bazaar. There were Saudi men whose stark white shirt-like clothing emphasized their dark hawk-like faces. Some had their wives with them in their black dresses and veils as prescribed by their strict Islamic traditions. There were Bedouins here also in their flowing desert robes of many colors. He could see Egyptian men and women who eschewed the more western style of trousers and dresses like Europeans wore. He could also see children, some dressed as he was, in shorts and shirt, some wearing the more traditional clothing of their various nationalities.

But unlike the other children, he was alone. Some people looked at him oddly, not knowing what a little white child was doing there all by himself. Others looked at him in a frightening manner, not at all like the friendly workers he knew from his parent's dig sites. He became a little scared and began to run. He knew where he was going. He had come here once before with old Abdullah. He was going to the place where all manners of beasts were bought and sold.

Finally, he escaped the city streets and alleyways of the old market. He was looking out into a huge city square, all flat, hot and dusty. Its sand whiteness reflected the sun, brilliant in its light. But he could see the animals out in the center of the square, and he forgot his fears in his fascination with the panorama of sights, sounds and smells.

There were cages piled up to the sky. In the smaller ones were monkeys. Some of the apes had funny faces and long tails, and some of them were scary with very big teeth and no tails at all. Some were angry. Some were scared and some scared Daniel.

Beyond the monkeys were the multicolored birds wearing multitudes of colors and patterns. They were all reds and blues and greens and yellows. Some talked at him, telling him hello and asking for crackers or fruits in many languages. Others cawed and croaked in their own tongue. At the edge of the cages sat the great birds of prey, the falcons and hawks used for hunting. They were held to their resting places by jesses of leather. The raptors eyed him appraisingly, and he felt sorry to see them tied to their posts. But he could only shake his head. He could not set them free. 

Next, there came a huge pile of baskets and ceramic urns. They all had hard, heavy covers on them keeping their prisoners securely inside their confines. There was a musty smell to the air that he recognized as that of the cloying bitter smell of snakes. On the other side of the containers was a large group of people squatting in a circle. Daniel could hear the whistle and whine of pipe music being played. He became curious and squeezed into the crowd see what was going on. 

In the center of the group, sitting cross-legged on the hard dirt was a man with a flute. In front of the charmer was a snake dancing to the music of his flute. Daniel paused and watched in fascination as the huge Cobra wove itself into the sound made by the musical instrument. He dipped and swayed, seemingly lost in the melody. Daniel's Poppa had told him that all snakes were deaf, but how could that be if the snake was dancing. It was very strange and the idea confused him.

After a little while he grew tired of watching the snake and the musician. Daniel wandered on past the wooden cages that held all types of the large predatory cats. Lions and leopards snarled at him from within their cages. Tame cheetahs on leashes watched him with interest. His mummy had told him that some people used the fast runners to catch antelope and gazelle for them. Looking at their big teeth and fearsome visages, he pitied the prey. The cats frightened him more than the snakes had.

Finally, in the distance, he could see the camels as they stood together in a herd. There were hundreds of the dromedaries, all standing together in a herd. They were all colors and sizes, some had saddles on, some packs and some no harness at all. He realized that it would be very hard for him to decide on what camel he wanted. Should he pick a young camel, because he was a young boy, or should he pick an old camel that had experience? Did he want a yellow camel like his toy, Lumpy? Or did he want a dark brown camel like Mister Ibrahims? He also knew that some were very fast and some were very strong, but he didn't know which one was which.

Daniel also realized that he was growing very tired and thirsty. Perhaps he should stop and rest a while before he spent all his money. Mummy had always said you should think about things before you buy them. She said that sometimes when you got too much in a hurry you didn't get what you really wanted. So, the boy went to the water seller and bought a cup of cold water then found himself a shady corner. There he sat and drank the water. Thus refreshed, he began to get sleepy. Finally he lay down just to rest his eyes.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Claire Jackson paid the grain shop owner for her purchase, then turned around to look for Missy and Daniel. They weren't immediately visible. That was odd. Daniel had just been there behind her, talking about a camel. Well, she had managed to get the grain merchant down to a reasonable price and make arrangements for the delivery. The spices had already been purchased and were being loaded on their lorry. The vegetables would have to be purchased tomorrow right before they left. 

Now she needed to get back to the hotel to dress for the role of dutiful wife and mother to meet with Mel and Mister Donahugh. She'd have Missy take Daniel down to the hotel's garden while she transformed herself into a proper modern lady. The role-playing annoyed her. Maybe some day she would be able to act like what she was in polite society, a working archaeologist in her own right, someone who was respected for her mind and not her looks and married last name. Luckily, Mel was not of that mindset. She lived a much more liberated life than many of her college friends, working here in Egypt with her husband, caring for her son and generally not having to fulfill the stereotypical role of the twentieth century house wife, much less the very restrictive role of the middle eastern woman.

Speaking of which, "Missy?" She called out. Claire remembered that the girl had said she wanted to look at some lapis lazuli earrings. She'd probably gone into the gold shop on the corner.

The woman nodded her farewell to the shop man and walked the short distance. Sure enough there was the girl chatting with the old woman shopkeeper. Claire entered the store and spoke to her maid. "Missy, we have to go now. Where's Daniel?''

The girl turned around and looked at her oddly. "But Mistress, Dan- yel was with you."

An odd feeling came over the young mother. "No, he followed you here into the shop when you came."

"Mistress, he did not. He was talking to you as you were buying the grain. He did not come to me."

"Well, he must be looking at something there in the street." Claire said firmly, "Come on, we have to find him."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four hours later, Missy was in tears and Claire was trying her dead level best not to panic. Daniel was no place to be found. They had searched all the different shops, the streets, and the alleys of the huge marketplace. She'd sent the girl back to the hotel to find Melbourne and he and Mister Donahugh had come immediately. While the English Gentleman notified the police and the British Consulate, Mel had sent out the men who had come with them and enlisted the aide of all the hotel employees. But they knew that one small boy, even as striking as one as their Daniel, could easily disappear never to be seen again in a place such as Cairo.

They had all searched the tourist quarter and the regular marketplace until they ran out of places to look. Finally, Haseem, the foreman of the workers, had approached the distraught couple. 

"Doctor Jackson, we have searched the bazaar. Dan-yel is not here. I would like to go into the old Souk. Perhaps he has been seen there. But, I would like to take some gold money with me. That way, I may find out more from the thieves that abide there."

Melbourne had reached into his pocket and brought out a small sack of gold and silver coins and gave it to him. "Use it wisely, my friend. This is all there is."

The older man nodded. He would add his own meager monies to the amount if need be. He was sure the others would too. They must find the boy. He was too precious to be lost.

Daniel was awoken suddenly when hard hands grabbed him around his arms and jerked him upright. He blinked in the dim light as he looked up into the frightening visage that peered down at him.

"What are you doing here, boy?" The large man picked him up and scowled at him. "Where do you come from?"

The boy stared up at the big Arab, speechless in his fear. 

"Who are you and what do you do here?" He growled again.

The child looked up at him and searched for the proper words and dialect in his mind. Finally, he identified the vernacular as one of the middle desert lands and of a Bedouin tribe.

"Honored sir, I'm sorry. I was tired. I must have fallen asleep here in the shade of the wall."

His words didn't appear to satisfy the man at all. Black eyes raked up and down the small body then looked him in the eye suspiciously.

"What does a foolish English boy do in the Souk? Where are your people who would let you trespass into this place of our kind?"

"But, but I am not English. I am Egyptian. I was born in Luxor on the banks of the mother Nile."

The big man sat him down on his feet. "No Bedouin boy has eyes like this." He chucked the boy roughly under his chin forcing Daniel to look up. "No child of Egypt has hair like this. " He cuffed the boy on his white blond hair pushing him off balance.

"And no honorable man frightens a small child." Another voice came from above them. Daniel turned to look up for the voice, and he gasped his surprise. The new voice was coming from a man who was sitting on the biggest, whitest camel that he had ever seen. As the boy stared at him, the rider tapped the great beast on the shoulder with a crop and the dromedary grudgingly began its descent. When the camel was lying crouched down on the ground, the man dismounted gracefully. 

He was a tall man for an Arab. His skin was burned the dark color of mahogany by the desert sun. His eyes held the farseeing look of Horus, the hawk god. He was dressed in a black aba and wore a dark red burnoose over it. His headdress was white and held in place by a black twisted band around his forehead. As the man dismounted, Daniel's attacker bowed low and backed away from the imposing man and the small boy.

The Sheik bent a little at the waist and looked curiously at the small, slender, fair-skinned boy. He then stood to his full height, pursed his lips thoughtfully and shook his head. "What do you do here, boy?" He asked in English with a faint Oxford accent.

"Sir," Daniel answered politely. "I came here because I wanted to buy a camel."

"Well, then, indeed you did come to the right place after all." The dark man nodded with a slight smile. "There are no better camels anywhere than here at the Souk of Cairo. Where else would one come but here?" He looked around as if asking the question of the small group of people who had gathered around them.

The boy nodded. "I know. You can find everything you want at the Great Souk. My Poppa says so."

Ah, then your father is a very wise man indeed." The man answered him. "Who is your father and where is he now?"

"Poppa is an Archie-ologist. He is at the Grand Hotel. We came to Cairo to visit with his new Patron, Mister Donahugh, to get more money for a dig." Daniel answered. "His name is Melbourne Jackson." "Ah, I think I have heard of your Poppa. I think that he may be an important man."

"Poppa is very smart, and so is my Mummy. I was shopping with her and Missy when I decided that I wanted to buy a camel to have one as a friend."

"It is always a good thing to have a camel as a friend." The man nodded knowingly. "I am Sharif Kasuf ben Ali of the Harif tribe." He looked down at the boy. "And what is your name?"

"My name is Daniel Jackson."

"Ah, so tell me, Dan-yel of the Jackson tribe. What kind of a dig does your Father want money for?"

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know." He looked up at the man and realized that he should know a thing like that, but he hadn't listened closely enough to remember. "But, I know that he wants to ex-cave-ate a dig and he wants to find wonderful, interesting things to study."

"Ah, he wishes to disturb the rest of the old ancient gods of the desert. Does he not realize the great danger that he puts himself and his family in?"

Daniel looked at him in surprise. "But they're all dead. They aren't dang-er-us."

"Just because someone is dead, does not defeat their magic. That may live on for many years after, just as the good they do survives them. The desert has a long memory for those who lie in its sands." The Sharif looked the boy over. "It is late, young one. Perhaps it would be better if you returned with me to my tent. There my women will take care of you and you will be safe until tomorrow when I can return you to your careless parents."

Daniel didn't understand. His parents weren't careless. They were very careful. They never broke anything that they found. But it was getting late, the darkness was already beginning to creep into the great square of the old souk. "But, sir, I'd like to go home to my Mummy and Poppa."

"Tomorrow, young Dan-yel, I will take you tomorrow." The man turned and crossed back to the camel, then he turned and looked back at him. "Come."

The boy looked at the beautiful creature and then followed his rescuer to its side. The man mounted the beast then signaled to him. With the help of the other man, Daniel climbed carefully up in front of the Sharif and perched himself before the saddle. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Claire was exhausted. The day had been long and tiring enough, but when she had discovered that Daniel had gone missing, it felt like the very walls of the ancient city had fallen on her. She could imagine her child lying murdered in the dark shadows, she saw him lying in the road crushed by a car, she had visions of him kidnapped and stolen away to be sold as a slave. The young woman knew that anything could have happened . . . and it would be all her fault. She could see the look in her husband's eyes. He would blame her for the disappearance of his only son, their precious child, and he would be right.

Her husband had made his excuses to their patron and taken her back to their room. Melbourne Jackson looked at his wife. "Claire, you must try to rest. Everything that can be done is being done. You'll not do Danny any good by making yourself ill.

She could only shake her head. "Oh, Mel. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I should never have let him wander loose. " She looked at her husband. "He was talking about going to the Souk to buy a camel, but I never dreamed...."

"Claire, I know how hard it is to keep track of him." He took his wife in his arms. "We'll find him, darling. I'm sure we will. Haseem has gone into the old Market to look. Someone will have seen him." He forced a smile for her. "It's not as if there are many like him here in Cairo."

She leaned against him and nodded tearfully. 

"We'll find the lad, and I'll have his guts for garters for taking years off of my life." He tried to chuckle but it was more of a sob. "It's not like he hasn't done it before you know."

Later, that night, Melbourne Jackson lay watching his wife's restless sleep as he held her. He could see she was restless, probably dreaming about their lost child. He had exhausted every avenue open to him. Even Mister Donahugh had offered a reward for the return of Daniel. The word was being spread throughout the old city. Maybe tomorrow someone's greed would prove beneficial to their efforts to locate their son. But for now, he could only lie awake and hold his sleeping wife as she dreamed out her fears and cried in her sleep.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning dawned early and hot. There was still no word of the lost boy. Haseem and the men had spent the night searching the old Souk but had found nothing except reports of a small fair-haired English boy who had come to the market then disappeared. Lord Donahugh had returned to the British Consulate to see if he could bring more pressure on the local government. Missy was inconsolable, wailing and crying until Mel had sent her away to her quarters afraid that she would cause more suffering for Claire. 

The couple were sitting in the hotel's restaurant at their breakfast table, the wife wan and silent. It was as if the light had gone out of her. Melbourne knew Claire blamed herself, but he also knew his son. If Daniel had wanted to go, nothing would have dissuaded the child. He was as stubborn as an Egyptian mule when he wanted something. No mere mother could have stopped him. They could only pray now that someone honorable had found him, someone who would return him unharmed. 

Suddenly, through the tall latticed doorway, Missy came running in from the garden into the high-ceilinged foyer, her scarf and long black hair flying behind her. "Mistress Claire, Mister Mel. Come quickly! Oh, oh, come quickly! Do you see? Do you see?"

They both rose quickly from the table, Claire knocking her cup of coffee to the floor, the porcelain cup smashing to pieces on the hard tile. Missy waved both of her arms at her employers, "Come quickly! You must see."

The Jacksons followed the excited girl out into the bright morning sun and the garden's sandy pathway. The Garden of the hotel was designed in the formal English-style. It was comprised of a circular drive with a sparkling water fountain in the center. The water was surrounded by a marble lip, box hedges and brave grass that had wilted in the heavy heat. The garden itself was framed by a high wall that divided the yard from the car park. At the entrance of the garden's wall a tall round archway with a spire was fashioned in the Moorish style.

Through the high, carved portal came a vision from out of the Arabian nights. There, through the archway of cerulean blue tiles, strode the largest, whitest camel that Melbourne Jackson had ever seen. The beast's bridle was fashioned out of red dyed leather and tassels of gold and scarlet. On the back of the marvelous dromedary rode a desert Bedouin Chieftain swathed in the dark robes of his people. A black cloak wrapped around his shoulders came together at his front hiding something that appeared curiously out of place.

"Look there," Daniel spoke to the Bedouin Sheik in a small, high voice. "There are my Mummy and Poppa."

"So I see small one." The Sharif nodded to his small guest, watching the young couple exiting the hotel lobby. The woman appeared particularly distraught. "Your mother looks very unhappy."

"Cause she's been crying, I think." Daniel replied in a subdued tone, looking up at his host.

"And why is that, do you suppose?" Sheik Kasuf ben Ali looked gravely down at his small passenger.

The fair blue-eyed child looked up at him guiltily. "Because of me?"

"Indeed, I believe you to be correct." He agreed calmly, nodding. "Women are prone to such things. After all, they gave us life and it is foolish for us to waste it unnecessarily."

The boy nodded seriously. "I guess you're right Sir."

As the great camel came fully into the garden and strode gracefully past the fountain, the Arab gave his riding crop to the boy. "Now, do as I have taught you."

Daniel took the long, slender whip and tapped the camel on the shoulder exclaiming "Hut hut hut," in a loud clear command.

The she-camel proceeded to grumble her complaints to any who would listen to her, but none the less, the well-trained beast gently lowered herself and her precious burden to the golden sand. Just in front of the doorway where the astonished couple stood.

Claire tried to go past her husband but Mel held her back, knowing that it was unseemly for a woman to run towards a Moslem man, much less a chieftain of the desert.

As the couple watched, their small son carefully dismounted from his perch in front of the Sheik and walked slowly and contritely towards them. Melbourne could hear Claire sobbing softly behind him.

When the boy was standing in front of his father, he looked up at him. "Poppa, Mister Kasuf brought me back to you."

Mel knelt in front of his son, taking in his appearance. The boy looked no worse for wear. His head was bare to the sun, his face was clean and he was now wearing Arab clothing, an embroidered tunic shirt and loose-fitting trousers. He was still wearing his sandals and his feet were dusty from the sand.

"Are you all right, Danny?"

Yes, sir." His son replied in a subdued voice.

"Then go to your mother." He released the boy to walk behind him. The young mother reached forward and enveloped her son in a hug.

Mel watched them for a moment, and then turned to face his son's rescuer.

The Sharif had dismounted from his beast and was standing, waiting for the younger man to approach.

Daniel's father stepped forward and spoke in his best formal Arabic. "I am Professor Jackson. I would thank you for bringing my son back to us."

The dark, hawk eyes flickered from Jackson to the mother first embracing her son then gripping his arms, talking quietly to him. He pointed at the pair. "You should have your wife beaten." The man said firmly. "She has been careless with your treasure."

The Englishman was shocked at the man's words. "No," he shook his head. "The boy, he wanders off. We spend most of our days in the small villages of our workers. He doesn't realize the danger...."

"Then he should be shown a lesson." The Arab Chieftain said firmly. "I found him at the Souk in the hands of one of my men. Nazir is not a bad man, but he had frightened the boy." The Bedouin said. "But there are many others, Professor, who are not so generous as to return him to you... unharmed."

Jackson could only nod his head, not knowing what to say to the man's harsh truth.

The Sharif continued. "I have spoken with your son. You must know that this one is irreplaceable, not only to your tribe, but to human kind. I believe that he will be a great prophet. You must guard him well." The man looked deeply into Jackson's face. " I have seen great dangers for your family." The Arab held his finger up in front of the Professor's face. "I cannot tell you enough, guard him closely or the evil one, the djinn Sheitan, will surely steal him away."He turned to look knowingly down at the blond head. "I bring you back your treasure, Professor." The Sharif said. "I almost thought to keep him myself, but he is not only a beautiful boy but a clever one as well. I knew that he would soon miss you and grow discontent with our simple ways."

Melbourne Jackson stared at the Bedouin Chieftain who had spoken his own fears out loud. He had long held his own fears about his son's safety. Daniel was indeed all of that and more. He must be kept safe. Melbourne had always known that his son was special, Now, after this close call, he realized just how precious his son was . . . to them all. 

At the shocked expression on the Professor's face, the chieftain laughed. "Truly, you English are like the children by the campfires. Do not be afraid, but be on your guard. This little one has a very important place in the fate of our kind. Do not fail to safeguard him properly; and pray to Allah, the merciful, that he will always have a strong hand at his back to keep him safe. He has a powerful destiny."

The Sharif turned, strode back to his great camel and mounted upon her saddle. He touched her on the shoulder commanding her to arise. She gracefully rocked to her feet, and the Arab chieftain saluted Jackson with his whip. "Mark my words, English. Keep him close and guard your family well." He then signaled the beast and the two of them turned and strode out of the garden to disappear into the heat waves rising up from the road that led out into the desert. 

Melbourne Jackson stared at the gate long after the man and beast had gone, then he turned back to his little family reunited at last. Claire looked up at him, still holding her son in her arms. 

"What did he say, Mel?" Claire asked as she came to stand next to her husband.

"That he found Danny in the Souk yesterday evening and he took him home until he could find us today and return him." Mel watched his son in amazement. The boy was now standing in Missy's arms speaking to the maid and Haseem who had joined them in the garden.

The Egyptian foreman looked over at his employer. He had heard what the Sharif had said to the Professor. He would make it his business to make sure that nothing would ever happen to the boy again while he was in the care of his people. Haseem silently swore to himself that he would find a man to protect the young one, perhaps a young man from one of the villages. He knew that Dan-yel would always need a strong, skilled, brave warrior to guide and shelter him from evil. He could only pray to Allah, the just, that the boy would find such a one when he left them for his own world.

~the end of the camel's tale~


End file.
